


we still have yesterday

by HarperRose (Harper_Rose)



Series: Mutually Assured Destruction [2]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Italy, Keller loves Neal, M/M, Neal is questioning that, Non-Graphic Violence, Peter is the voice of reason, Pre-Series, Unhealthy Relationships, confused Neal, gayyy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 08:05:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6071491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harper_Rose/pseuds/HarperRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre series. </p><p>Neal and Keller execute a perfect heist in Italy when everything goes wrong, causing Neal to put what he and Keller have into question.<br/>In his panic, Neal called Agent Burke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we still have yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> I've always thought there was something more between Neal and Keller. The way Keller looks at Neal like he's something spectacular. The way he seems to tell every thief he comes across how wonderful Caffrey is, like a fucking groupie. There's obviously something there that Keller is so not over.

Neal paced across the hotel room, his feet shuffling. He ran his hands through his hair when he noticed that they were trembling. A combination of adrenaline and shock. He swallowed. He needed to devise a plan, he needed to  _ think _ but it was becoming annoyingly difficult to think of anything other than the fact that Keller had  _ shot a man.  _

Neal felt bile rise up in the back of his throat at the memory. A shiver wracking up his spine. He swallowed the feeling down, he had already been sick once, having sprinted for the bathroom immediately upon arriving back to the suite that  _ he and Keller shared. _

Neal cursed. He didn’t know where Matthew was at, just that he wasn’t back yet. A fact that Neal was grateful for. He didn’t know what he would do when Keller came back. And he really didn’t want to think about what he could be doing right now. Probably ditching the body, oh  _ god. _

This wasn’t the first dead body Neal had seen and this wasn’t the first man he had seen killed either. Neal had had the unfortunate experience of stumbling upon a dead body or two in his line of work, and he’d witnessed Adler shoot a man dead before. He also hadn’t seen Adler since. But this was Matthew. He wasn’t supposed to be like that, he wasn’t supposed to be a killer.  

Neal’s eyes traveled across the room to the large sketch across the hotel wall. It was a Rembrandt, nothing overly grand, but a simple sketch of a lion. Neal had done it that morning, with Matthew lying beside him, sprawled across the mattress with the duvet tangled at his ankles.

“Fuck!” He swept an arm across the dining table, sending everything that had sat atop it tumbling to the carpeted floor and into the wall. Neal’s chest heaved with quick, rushed breaths. He leant against the table, hands spread. He couldn’t believe any of this was actually happening.

He needed a voice of reason. Someone to turn to. Usually that would be Keller but that wasn’t exactly an option right now. 

Neal exhaled a shaky, brittle breath. It was late, past midnight, he didn’t know the time exactly and he didn’t really care either. With a sudden certainty, Neal marched across the suite and to little nook where the bed sat. He scrambled across the mattress for the phone, his cell had gotten lost somewhere along the way tonight. Somewhere between Matthew’s soft kiss and Keller’s gun going off. 

Neal snatched the phone from it’s cradle and dialed the number he had memorized a long time ago. 

Part of him was aware this wasn’t the spitting image of a good idea, but he was determined now and it felt good to have some semblance of control right now. He needed something to focus on.

As he listened to the phone ring, waiting for the other end to pick up, he watched the lion sketched across the beige wall, as if he could move from his warm rock. As if it would somehow reflect the turmoil of the day, the taint that now hung heavy in the air. But it didn’t reflect a thing other than the joy that Neal had felt in his gut this morning. 

Neal felt his chest burn, and he realized he still wasn’t breathing correctly, but in shallow pants. 

“Special Agent Peter Burke.”

Neal blinked back to himself, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “Peter?”

“Who is this?”

Neal opened his mouth to speak but the words caught in his throat. 

“Whoever the hell this is, it’s-”

“It’s Neal. Neal Caffrey.” His voice came out much steadier than he was expecting, but the tremble was still present and noticeable. 

“Caffrey.”

Neal could almost laugh at the Peter's surprise.

“Where are you?”

Neal closed his eyes, covering them with his hand as he rest his elbow on his knee, folding in on himself. Panic gripping him around the middle again and  _ squeezing.  _ “Italy,” he said truthfully. 

“Why are you calling, isn’t it pretty late there?”

“Yeah.”

“Am I going to get a folder on my desk in the morning telling me all about your exploits in Italy?” Peter asked lightly, unsettled by Caffrey’s short answers and the fact he had called at all. He knew something was off.

Neal chuckled, “the Italian police are pretty stubborn, good luck getting them to share the case at all. Besides, I doubt the Vatican’ll be very willing to admit that their security's gotten pretty lax.”

He heard Peter curse followed by a, “Caffrey it is really too late to be dealing with your crap right now.”

“Sorry.”

There was a beat of silence where Neal could hear another voice over the line and Neal wondered where Peter was at. “Are you still at work?”

“Yeah, I was just leaving. Why did you call me Caffrey?”

Neal swallowed. He didn’t really know the answer to that himself. “I guess I just needed someone reasonable to talk to.”

“What happened?” Peter asked, something like actual concern in his tone. Something he thought he heard in Keller’s voice. 

Neal felt the tears trailing down his cheeks before he could stop them. “It wasn’t supposed to go so wrong,” Neal heard his voice crack. “I don’t know what happened, I swear. You have to believe me Peter, I didn’t want-”

“Whoa, slow down. What happened?”

Neal let out a heart wrenched sob before clapping a hand over his mouth in a desperate attempt to quiet them. “A man died. He shot him, I, I couldn’t stop him. I didn’t even know he had a gun, I swear, I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t know that he would-” Neal’s voice broke off into a sob.

“Caffrey. Caffrey-  _ Neal!” _

Neal swallowed and made a humming sound to let Peter knew he was listening.

“I need you to listen to me,” Peter spoke very calmly and Neal wanted to scream.  _ How could anyone be calm right now?  _ When everything Neal knew was crumbling. “Are you listening?”

Neal nodded even though Peter couldn’t see him. 

_ “Neal.” _

“I’m listening.”

“Alright, good, now can you tell me what happened?”

“A man was shot.”

“Okay, who was shot?”

“A man, Biaggio, he was helping us with the heist. But he screwed up, there was a misunderstanding-”

“So he was shot.”

“Yeah,” Neal croaked. 

“Can you tell me who shot him?”

Neal felt his heart race. He couldn’t tell Peter, he couldn’t rat on Keller, he  _ wouldn’t.  _ He wouldn’t betray Keller, he couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t. Oh god. Neal didn’t understand, he should just tell Peter, he should tell him everything, he should let him arrest Keller. But god, he couldn’t. Neal knew what he should do, but he also knew how he felt about Keller, before tonight, before this mess that felt like a nightmare. He couldn’t just hand him over to the FBI. 

“Neal?”

“I can’t.”

“Because you don’t know who did it?” Peter asked.

“Because I can’t tell you.” 

“Why can’t you tell me?” There was a sudden urgency in Peter’s voice, as though he feared Neal may be being held captive or otherwise enabled. 

Neal shook his head. “I, I just can’t Peter. I can’t rat on him.”

“So you know him,” it wasn’t a question but Neal replied all the same.

“Yes.”

“He’s your partner, isn’t he?” Peter knew how these things worked. One didn’t scope a target as big as the Vatican single handedly. It would take  _ at least  _ two to pull it off, if not a small group. 

“Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll hurt you?”

The question caused Neal to pause. He hadn’t thought of that. The idea that Keller would be violent towards Neal had never crossed his mind. Keller had always been aggressive, but he’d never harmed Neal. And if this, this murderer, was who Keller had been all along, then why should anything change? Why should this affect their relationship? Neal was the only one having a problem afterall, Keller was just  _ Keller.  _ And apparently Neal didn’t know who Keller was at all.

Neal shook his head and said truthfully, “I don’t think so.”

He could hear Peter sigh and he wondered how angry he was. “You’re sure you don’t want to tell me who he is?” Peter asked. “You know I can get you a deal Neal, if you turn him in and cooperate it’ll be beneficial to your case.”

Neal could almost laugh. “I can’t tell you Peter, I’m sorry.”

Peter sighed again. “Alright, call if you change your mind.”

“Thank you Peter.”

“I wouldn’t thank me so soon. I’m calling Interpol the second this conversation’s over and I  _ will _ find you Caffrey.”

“Hmm, good luck Agent Burke. Good night.”

“Good night Caffrey.”

Neal set the phone down in it’s cradle, feeling a little better than before, his head clearer anyway. 

With hands that still carried a tremor, Neal loosened his tie, slipping it off and setting it down on the foot of the bed. His shirt, jacket, and slacks soon followed, leaving him in his briefs. He took a few deep breaths and wiped a hand across his cheeks.

Neal lay down on the king bed, bundling himself securely in the duvet, the lights and sounds of the busy city streaming in through the window he had opened. It was a cool night and the air helped him relax. Keller still wasn’t back, but Neal thought maybe that was okay. 

**Author's Note:**

> *aggressively ignores canon*
> 
> comment?


End file.
